Reincarnated As The Villainess's Son-Chapter 146 [Blood Of Fallen] [2]

"My father—the emperor—wants you dead."

Complete silence lingered as the words escaped the Prince's mouth.

The prince leaned back on the sofa, a table in between them, while Azariah's hand, hidden beneath, rubbed his bracelet.

Azariah stared at him for a while, blinking in confusion.

The guards standing behind the prince subtly took out their weapons, prepared in case things gets heated.

"Pardon, the fuck did you just say?" Azariah finally questioned, eyes narrowing, his breath misting in the cold air.

It was spring in this part of the continent, but due to the proximity of the Malycia Mountains to the empire, winter always clung to this area.

"Let me introduce myself first." The prince smiled, nodding at Azariah's bewildered state. "My name is Asgrim Biarni Mizraim, the youngest son of the emperor—."

"No, fuck that." Azariah interjected, eyes fixed on him. "What did you say about me being dead?"

"As impatient as they say," Asgrim muttered softly, looking at him. "...You truly don't understand where you are, do you?"

A guard behind Asgrim moved a few steps forward, then stopped, the cold steel of his sword now touching Azariah's neck.

"I could kill you right here if I wanted," Asgrim threatened, leaning comfortably on the sofa.

"Try it," Azariah replied, leaning forward.

"And watch the world around you burn into nothingness," he whispered.

A smile crept onto Asgrim's face. "You are indeed Lady Esmeray's son."

People who don't know Esmeray's actual strength respect her for her temperament and potential.

After all, she was a well-known genius of her time.

At Asgrim's signal, the guard removed the sword, returning to his position.

"You've heard the rumors surrounding you, right?" Asgrim said, the smile still lingering on his face. "The [Exiled Prince]?"

"What about it?" Azariah questioned back. "And it's not like they're tru—."

"It doesn't matter," Asgrim snapped, eyes narrowing. "Even if there's a speck of a chance that you are him..."

His voice trailed off, but the message was clear.

"Why fear him?" Azariah asked, causing Asgrim to let out a soft chuckle.

"We do not fear him," Asgrim replied, shaking his head. "We are merely ensuring that history does not repeat itself."

"....."

Azariah remained silent, his eyes dropping to his hands hidden beneath the table, gripping the axe-hammer he had taken out the moment he heard him.

"Speak," he grunted, looking up. "You didn't mention your father's wish to betray him."

"Of course not," Asgrim said, pleased by his docility. "But first, do you know how long we've ruled this empire?"

"I don't."

"A thousand years," Asgrim informed him, pride swelling in his chest. "We've ruled over those slaves for that long."

"Slaves?" Azariah questioned.

"Commoners," Asgrim scoffed, not hiding his disdain for them.

"Just the name has changed; in essence, they are still the slaves who work for us, both mentally and physically."

"..."

Azariah remained still; the same could be said about his empire as well.

Those in power see commoners as nothing more than people who should bow to nobles.

"Anyway, we were able to rule for so long because of the legacy our forefathers left us," Asgrim continued, his voice filled with regret.

"You know they were central figures in the Akasha Holy War...but because of one traitor, they lost everything."

"You talk like the [Exiled Prince] was one of your family members," Azariah jabbed as he played with the hidden axe-hammer.

"He wasn't," Asgrim replied, placing his legs on the table. "But the [Promised Prince] was."

"Hmm?" Azariah tilted his head. "What?"

"He was the crown prince of the Dronarta Empire," Asgrim revealed, making Azariah fall silent.

The [Promised Prince] joined the [Exiled Prince] in the Akasha Holy War. Those thoughts lingered in Azariah's mind as he waited for Asgrim to continue.

"But the problem was the [Exiled Prince]," Asgrim said, eyeing Azariah's brow for a reaction. "He was the one who truly killed our forefathers."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Azariah asked calmly, his eyes still showing little emotion.

"My father has an offer for you," Asgrim replied, signaling his guard.

One of them came forward and spread photos of tens of women on the table.

"Choose any one of them to marry and settle down in our empire," Asgrim said threateningly. "Or else, leave your head here."

Azariah didn't take his threat seriously as he picked up one of the photos, asking, "Who are they?"

"My half-sisters," Asgrim snorted. "They have royal bloodlines, so they are at least beautiful."

"Why this?" Azariah asked curiously. "Do you want to bind me to the empire?"

"Yes—"

"Then give me your sister, the first princess," Azariah cut him short.

"I've heard her beauty is divine...." He whistled, giving a half-smile.

"Don't wish for things that are out of your league," Asgrim snapped, glaring at him.

"Let's say I did accept the offer," Azariah said, still smiling. "Then what about my mother?"

"The Mizraim Empire will take care of her."

"Ptfff... Hahaha!!" Azariah burst into laughter—a genuine, heartfelt laugh at their naivety.

"She is just a peak Overlord; we have tens of them," Asgrim snorted, looking at him. "You laugh as if we can't handle her."

"Huff..." Azariah breathed out, calming himself as he gazed at him. "I should go back now."

He stood up, Asgrim's surprised gaze landing on the axe-hammer in his hand.

Azariah turned around, ready to brawl his way out as the guards blocked his path.

"Are you sure?" Asgrim asked from behind.

"I can kill them, right?" Azariah questioned back, observing the guards.

"As you wish, then," Asgrim snorted, looking at the guards. "Let him go."

Surprised, Azariah glanced over his shoulder as the guards moved back.

Without any further delay, he moved out of the room, leaving the prince and his guards alone.

Asgrim leaned comfortably on the sofa, taking out a holographic screen and placing it on the table.

A figure soon materialized on the screen, a tall man, solid and huge as a boulder, with hair the same as his son's in a braided ponytail.

"What did he say?" The man grunted through his braided grey beard.

"He refused, Father," Asgrim replied, bowing his head, his voice soft.

"Hmm." The emperor nodded, already expecting the outcome.

"He is foolish," Asgrim commented.

"No, he would have been foolish if he had accepted my offer," the emperor grunted, correcting him. "His mother provides him with everything anyway."

Asgrim nodded, not commenting further.

The emperor's figure flickered on the holographic screen as he sat on his throne, deep in thought.

"History always repeats itself," the emperor mumbled, gazing at the ceiling, his eyes vacant, words that no outsider knew, words deeply rooted in their bones.

"When the moon grows close, blood flows; end him before he dawns, the Oracle warns."

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"..."

Asgrim turned serious as he heard his father's whisper, those words left by their forefathers as a warning.

"Have you heard the news for the 8th of this month?" The emperor asked, his gaze dropping back to his son.

Even though it was the 6th and his father was talking about two days ahead, Asgrim didn't question that. Instead, he replied, "I haven't, Father."

"On the eve of the 8th, at the Bridge of Dawn, Azariah died tragically," the emperor commented, as if foreseeing the future.

"Is it wise to kill him now?" Asgrim asked doubtfully, looking at his father. "We just threatened him—."

"Who said we will kill him? In fact, the empire tried their best to save him," the emperor mumbled, a smile hanging on his bearded face.

"The ones who killed him were the executives of Ishtar."

***

"Motherfucking idiots," I cursed softly, walking through the hallway of the hotel.

Who do they think they are?

Protect me from my mother, fucking idiots with no brains and zero idea who they are trying to go against.

[Was that not a good offer?]

'Being a house husband? No, it wasn't. But how do you think they will try to control me?'

Marrying me to one of their own is a good idea, but it's not enough to make me loyal to them.

And even if I wanted to run away from my mother, I wouldn't be foolish enough to become someone else's slave.

'Not to mention, they can't protect me from my mother.'

I doubt anyone in this world can protect me from her.

...Only I can protect myself from her.

"Sigh..."

A tired sigh escaped my mouth as I reached a room with my nameplate on it.

Entering inside, I was greeted by a luxurious room with a cozy bed and a spacious hall.

Walking closer, I noticed a cap, an overcoat, a mask, an eyeglass, and a note on the bed.

Picking up the note, I mumbled as I read it:

"I will be out for a while. If you want to go out, wear these and be safe.

Your beautiful wife

Christina."

I rubbed my temples reading the last words.

Is she really that much of a lost cause?

"Whatever," I grumbled, glancing at the items on the bed.

'...Maybe I should go out for a while.'

I thought, picking up the overcoat.

Let's ask Oliver for a tour around the city.

'Before that.'

I thought taking out my phone, searching Adaliah's number.